


Paranoia at Sea

by ChibiTabatha



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Forduary, Gen, Panic, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Sea Grunkles, cabin fever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/pseuds/ChibiTabatha
Summary: There was no way Bill could be back, right? But then how do you explain Stanley's behavior? No. It has to be something else.





	Paranoia at Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for week 3 of Forduary! Late but I also ended up really liking this and I hope you do too.

The thing about small spaces, is that they often drive the most logical to the most outrageous behaviors. The Stan O’ War II wasn’t the largest ship, but somehow Stanley had a way of just disappearing. Now perhaps it was just that they were missing each other by a hair. Statistically speaking, it was possible, but just slight. There was another possibility. One he dared not think of too deeply.    
  
“Hey Sixer,” a large hand on his shoulder made him jump out of his skin.    
  
“Sweet Moses Stanley!” he whipped around, panic in his voice. He desperately searched his brother’s eyes, hoping against all hope that nothing would be there.   
  
Just clouded whiskey warm eyes greeted him, a touch of concern deep in their depths. “Whoa there,” those large hands steadied Ford.    
  
“I’m fine, it’s fine. Too much coffee,” he laughed nervously.   
  
The concern didn’t leave his brother’s eyes, “When was the last time you slept the whole night?”   
  
He could feel his eyebrows drawing together. Thinking hard, he opened his mouth and closed it. “I’m not sure?” he drew his gaze towards his brothers.   
  
The frown that greeted him was startling, “That’s it, I’m throwing the coffee overboard.”    
  
“No, no, no!” scrambling he gripped Stan’s arms.   
  
“Then promise me you’ll sleep tonight,” Stan shook him slightly.   
  
Biting his lip, he nodded, “Of course Stanley.”   
  
Mayhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but it felt like when he blinked, Stan was gone. “Stanley?” he whispered. Only his heartbeat in ears answered him.   
  
He collapsed into his chair. How was Stanley doing that? Could it be? It couldn’t. They erased him. Mabel smashed the memory gun. Bill was gone and that was that.   
  
He didn't sleep that night. Or any night after really. To appease his brother he would crawl into the low bunk every night. Wrap up in the blankets. Stare out the small porthole. The smooth nights were the most relaxing despite the raging paranoia bubbling under his skin. The stars reflecting off the sea’s surface. His brother’s soft breathing. He could almost, almost dream of sleeping. Yet in those moments, when it sounded like his brother’s breaths had ceased, all he could see were glowing yellow eyes.

  
“Sixer,” that low voice, it was Stan’s right?   
  
He rolled over, his eyes looking up to yellow tinted eyes. A small gasp escaped him, as everything in him screamed to get away, and his body replied. In moments he was out of the bunk and through the hatch. The adrenaline in his body didn’t help him stop once he reached the bow, he nearly flipped over the rail.   
  
Pounding steps behind him. Everything in his body screamed to get away. Lungs expanding to let more oxygen in, to help him flee faster. Turning towards the dark silhouette of his brother, he could feel his heart hammering in his throat. “What’s wrong Sixer?” the presumed voice of his brother echoed in the silence.    
  
Half-formed thoughts stuck in his throat. White-knuckled grip tightening even more on the rails. Finally his brother stepped into the moonlight, out from the shadows of the cabin. Regular whiskey brown eyes raked his body up and down. Just like that every thing holding him together let go. Loosing his grip from the rail, he groped for his brother. The sleep warm skin under his shaking hands relieved him immensely. The dampness on his face was unmistakable, and the shake in his voice was unmistakable, “You are Stanley right?”   
  
“What are you talkin’ ‘bout Ford?” warm hands cradled his face.   
  
Everything came out in a rush of emotion, how he thought Bill was back, taking over his mind to torment Ford for the rest of his life. That he would lose Stan for the rest of his life. That Stan would leave him behind forever.    
  
“Shhhh, Ford. Breathe buddy. You’re panicking,” Stan rubbed his arms up and down. When did they sit down on the deck? When did he practically crawl into his brother’s lap?   
  
Breathe? Was that not what he was doing? Was that why his head was getting light? Large arms tightened around him, “I’m not going anywhere buddy. I’m right here. That evil dorito isn’t going to bother us no more. Even if he does come back, I’ll just sock him one, right in the eye.”   
  
Watery laughter escaped him, “That’s so like you Stanley. How could I have ever thought you were Bill?”   
  
“Lack of sleep will do that to anyone. Especially on a tightly, closed space like this boat. You ever hear of Cabin Fever?” Stan ran a hand through Ford’s hair.   
  
“Of course,” he wiped tears from his eyes. “How could I have been so blind?”   
  
“Paranoia will do that to anyone, heck. I’ve taken to crawling up onto the roof of the cabin when I’m feeling claustrophobic,” that would explain the sudden disappearances.   
  
“I think… We should set anchor in port more often,” he looked up into his brother’s warm gaze.   
  
“I think that’s a fantastic idea Poindexter. But before that. Bed. You haven't been sleepin’ and I’m about two seconds away from throwing the coffee overboard until we reach port,” his brother helped him stand up.   
  
“I wouldn’t be opposed to either those things Stanley. I’m exhausted,” he smiled tiredly at his brother.   
  
His brother laughed and clapped him on the back, “Let’s sleep on it Poindexter.” They walked amicably back to the sleeping cabin, making sure they always had a hand on the other, a silent reassurance that they were there. That everything was fine.


End file.
